


24 Hours

by easilyaddicted



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Choking, F/M, Language, Minor Violence, Oh Crowley, Sam was only doing what he thought was best, Southern Reader, Such the annoyance, argument, provoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6741442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easilyaddicted/pseuds/easilyaddicted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You decide to punish Sam by ignoring him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	24 Hours

“I'm sorry.” 

I ignore the apology. 

“(Y/N)..I said I'm sorry.”

I grit my teeth to keep myself from yelling at him. If he honestly thinks any of my anger is near sated he is sorely mistaken. 

I yell out through the bunker, “Supper’s ready!” 

Almost immediately, I hear the prance of feet coming toward the dining room table. I see a trench coat-clad angel making his way to the table, followed by an excited-eyed Dean rubbing his hands together. 

I spread my arms out over the table. “I hope y'all like the menu. Hand-breaded chicken fingers, homemade mashed potatoes, homemade Mac-n-Cheese, made-from-scratch yeast rolls, and for dessert, cherry pie and vanilla ice cream.

“Sit down, I'll make y'all’s plates,” I say scooping the plates up. 

“Where's my plate?” Sam asks, with a toned down bitch face. 

In a monotone voice I reply, “Oops. Must have left it in the kitchen. You can go get it.” He sulks off without responding. By the time he gets back I've piled on mountains of mashed potatoes and Mac-n-Cheese and tossed on several chicken fingers and rolls. 

Sam goes to hand me his plate but instead of grabbing it I duck under it to sit in a seat different than my own. The other boys, mouths full, sling their widened eyes back and forth between us. I always sit by Sam. Now, I sit beside Dean on the opposite end of the table from Sam, across from Cas. 

As I fix my plate I assure the boys that there is plenty of food and not to worry about trying to ration themselves. Sam pitifully scoops his meal onto his plate in silence, sitting beside Castiel. He didn't note my not sitting by him, though I know he's noticed. I almost feel bad, but then I remember what he did and I get pissed all over again. 

Before I get in a bite, I hear a smokey British accent come through the doorway. 

“Starting supper without me, love?” 

I turn and smile at Crowley. “Sit,” I say, gesturing to the seat beside me, “I'll go grab you a plate.” 

I disappear into the kitchen leaving the boys in silence. When I come back I almost lose my cool, and it takes all I have not to bust out laughing. Cas sits with his head cocked to the side, a small lump of mashed potatoes hugging the corner of his mouth. Dean has his hand over his mouth, his face red from trying to hold in the laughter. And Sam sits straight like a board, fist clenched on top of the table, and a scowl so deep I'm scared it'll get stuck aimed at a smirking Crowley, whose arm is slung over the back of my chair.

I know he won't move it once I sit down, so I stand in between him and my chair to fix his plate, forcing him to move his arm (which earns me a glare from Sam, a choked giggle from Dean, and another head cock from Cas), instead of standing on the other side of my chair. I set Crowley’s plate in front him and return to my seat to begin eating. 

Dinner is silent and uncomfortable, even for the cocky King of Hell. No one says a word, the only noise being the scrapes of forks on plates. One bout of silence is broken when I stand to clear the table, grabbing everyone's plate, (even Sam’s) and head for the kitchen to begin serving dessert. 

I balance the pie in one hand and ice cream in the other, my days as a waitress coming in handy. I slice the pie, still hot from the oven, into eight even pieces. I place one slice on each saucer and top it off with two perfect scoops of vanilla ice cream. I serve pie to everyone (including Sam again) and sit back to enjoy my own slice. 

This time, the sounds of scraping forks are accompanied by several light moans from the boys, except for Sam. He just continues to push the melting ice cream around his plate. 

“God bless your being southern, (y/n). This is literally the best meal I've ever eaten. And this pie…Jesus Christ woman, you can cook,” Dean says as his eyes roll back in his head. 

“Yes, (y/n), this meal is quite satisfying. It is very delicious.” Cas finally wipes his mouth after he speaks, blushing when he finds mashed potatoes in the crumbs of pie crust. Crowley nods around a forkful and holds up an “ok” sign with his hand. 

I smile at them from around a fork of pie and vanilla heaven. I had to admit I did pretty damn good on the ancient family recipe. Sam is silent and knowing Crowley, I knew the demon was about to say something smart to my boyfriend. 

“Nothin got say, Moose? Are you in the dog house, so to speak?”

“Shut the hell up. I'm not in the mood for your crap,” Sam snapped. 

Crowley held up his wiggling hands in mock surrender, eyes comically wide with faux fear. I elbowed him, laughing slightly. Suddenly, a 6’ 4” wall of plaid is shooting across the table to wrap its hands around Crowley’s throat. 

“Sam!” I exclaim. “Stop it! You're acting like a child!”

As quickly as it happened, it was over, and Sam was stalking off to his room. I heard his door slam seconds later. Cas and Dean sat there slightly sunken into their chairs, while a choking Crowley held his neck. I rubbed his shoulder as I got up, quietly apologizing for Sam’s warranted yet ridiculous behavior. 

I walk until I reach Sam’s door, hesitating outside the door. I finally just walk in without knocking to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over, fists clenching and unclenching. I sit at the chair at his desk and wait. 

“I know what I did to you was wrong, but you know I was only trying to keep you safe,” he mumbles. 

I roll my eyes and stand up from my seat. “That is such a scapegoated crock of shit if I ever heard one, you know that?” 

He looked up at me as if I had slapped him. At this point I wish I would already; maybe knock some sense into him. He doesn't say anything so I keep going. 

“Do think that because I have a vagina in between my legs I can't protect myself? Cuz here lately that seems to be the problem when I want to go on a hunt; but any other time it's cool right? ‘Long as you get between ‘em, huh? I'm a hunter for a reason, Sam. News flash, we've been doing the same shit for the same amount of time. You know I can carry myself just fine.” He heard my deep southern accent coming out and looked down. He knew better than to try and interrupt me right now. 

“And even if you were protecting me, you don't go and leave me behind; no note, no nothin’ for twenty four fucking hours; not a clue as to if you're alright as you hunt something so dangerous. I was worried sick out of my mind and you let me be.” I plop down on the bed beside him. 

“Do you know how goddamn inferior you make me feel sometimes? It's such a smack in he face when you ask me to stay behind and justify it through ‘wanting to keep me safe,’ especially when you don't even tell me you're going to do it. That's spittin’ in the face of all the times I saved your ass; it's telling me you don't trust me, and that hurts like a bitch, Sam.” I drag in a deep breath and let it out.

Sam sat there looking like a wounded puppy, head hanging low and hand resting in his lap. I scooted over closer and wrap my arms around his and lean my head on his shoulder. 

“I forgive you, by the way. I just had to think of a way to punish you. Thus, the ignoring you for a whole day,” I whisper. 

Sam turned his head to look at me and smile small. “Yeah, I guess that was an asshole move.” He laughed at my look of “You think?” on face. 

“I promise from here on out to never try to keep you off a hunt I know you can handle. And I do trust you. I trust you with my whole life. How can I not? You've indeed saved my ass more times than I can count.”

I pinch his butt and laugh, “And such a cute ass to save.” He rolls his eyes, laughing, and pulls me down to lay beside him on his bed. 

“But…if you ever sit by Crowley again while we’re fighting, I'll spank your ass. Literally. I will lay you over my knees and whoop you,” he says sternly but playfully. 

“Yes sir,” you laugh kissing his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm southern and this came from my gutter brain because I want to cook a meal like this for Sam and Dean.


End file.
